


Lay Me Down

by vintagecassetes



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Bisexual Jeremy Heere, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Michael-centric, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21978070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagecassetes/pseuds/vintagecassetes
Summary: Michael Mell has secrets just like anyone else.Sure, they may range from innocent things like the fact that he's 18 and still can't parallel park to much darker things like the reason he can't look Christine Canigula in the eye, but he's really just like everyone else.Isn't he?{This fic was written by me a little over a year ago and hadn't been updated since December 28, 2018. I renovated my account, deleting the fic, and now am reposting it}
Relationships: Christine Canigula/Jeremy Heere, Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 13
Kudos: 18





	1. Carson's

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was an old fic I deleted but have decided to redo and maybe try writing again. I'm reposting this first three chapters that had already been posted and I'm hoping to pick it up again.

On days like these, the asphalt seemed to breathe. Steam seeped from the pavement as a result of afternoon rain. Michael loved the summertime. Living in the south kinda sucked sometimes for a guy like him, but little things like these made it better.

Speaking of the heat, Michael was glad he'd decided to ditch his hoodie at home. So clad in an old band shirt, jeans, a bandana holding his ever-flopping fringe up, Michael found himself walking through the familiar wooden doors of his downtown destination, Carson's. 

Carson's was like a karaoke club you could say, except not really. It was like a karaoke club that wasn't limited to karaoke. People could do slam poetry, covers, original songs, anything of that nature. No memberships, no setlist, nothing. Just walk in and perform if you wanted to.

Most of the downtown area was built in the early 1900's or earlier. The place that Carson's now stood in used to be a bar, well, at least it was a bar a little over a hundred years ago, but had been shut down during Prohibition. But here it stood, with a decent stage and a quiet, sparse set of regulars keeping the place open. 

Michael sometimes felt guilty, slipping off to this place nearly every Thursday and never letting anyone know where he was. But this was his one corner of the earth where he had no stresses. Bringing other people into it, especially Jere, may jeapordize that.

But again, Michael found himself on his favorite barstool with a cherry slushie in his hand and looking forward to see who would be performing this week. 


	2. Maybe

"Y'know, I'd love to see you on that stage instead of hiding behind a slushie at my counter every week"

  


Michael chuckled and turned around to see owner of the familiar voice, and owner of Carson's, Ricky Carson.

  


Ricky was a good, genuine man. His scruffy beard, gravelly voice, faded tattoo sleeves, and questionable grammar gave him his rough n' tough exterior, but anyone who'd come into contact with him would know he was basically the soul of a teddy bear incarnate. 

  


"I think you'd eat those words the moment I opened my mouth to the mic, Mr. Ricky." 

  


"Ah, c'mon Michael. I've known you long enough t'know you ain't like them boys that like ridin' around in them loud trucks, cussin' and tearin' up folks' fields. I know you like typin' stuff on that phone a'yours an' I know you ain't textin' no girls. I bet there's somethin' real powerful in there. Some kinda poem, song, story, somethin'. I'd like to hear ya perform somethin' one day. "

  


Michael thought about the piles and piles of notes and drafts in his notes app and blushed with embarrassnent. He didn't think anyone had ever noticed him writing. 

  


"Maybe"

  


"I'll tell ya what, soon as you do somethin' up on that stage, I just might getcha that job here you been askin' about for so long" 

  


"Really?!" Michael practically squealed. "You mean that?"

  


Ricky nodded and grinned.

  


" 'course I mean it, kid. Sammie is moving off to college next fall an' that means she ain't gone be here to help out anymore. That opens up a nice spot in the payroll I'd be happy to pass along to you." 

  


Michael beamed. He'd been working at 7/11 for the better part of a year and the hours and work environment had taken a toll on him. He was a simple kid. Being in public and on the front lines of constant social interaction, stocking, and criticism from his manager exhausted him to the point he'd spend more time curled up in bed than anywhere else. He was happy he might now have a chance to quit. 

  


"I really appreciate it, Mr. Ricky." Michael checked his phone. "It's probably about time for me to go. Nanay'll be worried sick if I'm out past 8" 

  


" 's alright. I'll see you next week. I expect you to be singin' somethin' nice, alright? " Mr. Ricky said with a warm smile. 

  


Michael headed towards the door and shook his head with a smile. "Yes sir."

  


"Bye, Michael"

  


"Bye, Mr. Ricky"

  



	3. Mario Kart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> conflicts arise for michael. whether the worse one is between he and jere or he and himself, he doesn't really know.

"Do you think you'll be off work on Saturday?"

It was Monday night, and Michael and Jeremy were passing time in the former's basement. Michael was writing and Jeremy was playing Mario Kart.

Michael looked up from his phone and snapped out of his haze. "Hm?"

Jeremy shook his head and sighed inwardly, pausing the game. Michael had been so trapped in his own little world lately. They didn't hang out half as much as they used to, sometimes it's almost like Michael was just intentionally pushing him away, avoiding him. Of course he knows why. This was obviously all a result of the fight three months ago, or maybe more the incident that came afterwards, starting their whole..thing. Relationship? No. Affair? Not really. What even were they? Jeremy couldn't even really find a reason to care about labels at this point. Michael had just been hella distant. But rather than address it right then, he just tiredly asked again.

"Are you gonna be off of work on Saturday?"

"Well, I mean, I kind of was thinking about quitting this week?" Michael replied, as if it were a question.

"Oh" Jeremy swallowed. "Well, uh, why?"

Michael shrugged. "The schedule is hard to work with, plus my manager is kinda racist. I dunno, it's just not working out."

Well that was the understatement of the century.

Normally Michael would've told Jeremy all about the shifts until 11 PM on a school night, then the hour of calculus homework afterwards which didn't matter because the rest of his grades were slipping. Or maybe he'd tell him about all the nights in the past month where he'd actually had time to sleep but wasn't able to because he couldn't get Jeremy off his mind. Every dream was one of he and Michael either fighting or fucking, which didn't stray terribly far from their real situation.

Jeremy nodded. "I see.."

"Why'd you want to know?"

Jeremy shrugged and resumed the game. "Dunno. Thought about maybe hanging out."

Michael took a deep breath and tossed his phone over to his beanbag to turn around and face Jeremy.

"Like hang out, how? Doing what?"

Jeremy smirked, eyes never leaving the TV screen. "I mean, I've got ideas.."

Michael shook his head and pulled the game controller from Jeremy's hands, leaving Jeremy to stare at the floor.

"Are any of these ideas going to involve cheating on your girlfriend?" Michael asked in stern tone.

"Christine isn't my girlfriend anymore, Michael. You know that." Jeremy responded stoically.

"She might as well be!" Michael cried. "I mean you flirt with her and lead her on like you're gonna take her back all the time!"

Jeremy looked up at the TV where his character's car had hydroplaned into an abyss, and gazed back down again. 

A small moment of silence. He turned his head towards Michael, still staring at the floor.

"What she doesn't know can't hurt her" he murmured.

Inside, Michael's mind was screaming. _'What about me?! You fucking blind bitch! Just because you've got your head too far down on my dick to realize that I'm in fuckin' love with you doesn't mean Christine is the only one this is hurting!'_

Outside, however, Michael was lunging at Jeremy, attacking his throat with his mouth, sucking and biting and once again expressing this pain, this hurt, in the most counterproductive way possible. 

"A-ah, fuck Micah!" the brunette panted.

Michael felt pain, so much pain but so much nothingness at the same time. His brain was begging his body to just _stop,_ but Jeremy was gripping his hair and moaning underneath him, begging him not to.

Fuck, this was a mess.


	4. Here's the thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is in some heavy contemplation.

Michael would've never imagined that he'd end up in a situation like this and go against the most basic relationship etiquette by engaging in these _behaviors_ with his best friend who totally has a thing with a girl who's never even done any wrong to either of them. 

But here's the thing about it.

Let's pretend Michael and Jeremy have been in this pot full of water since sometime between the eighth grade, when Michael started thinking 'alright so maybe i don't have any _particular_ interest in girls' and the 9th grade when Jeremy started thinking 'okay so maybe im not as straight as i _thought_ i was'. 

This pot of water has been sitting on the stove from their respective gay awakenings until now, senior year. That water was fine at first. But slowly over time, the stove has been getting warmer and warmer, and Michael and Jeremy have adapted to each degree as a means of going on about their lives and friendship.

Sometime around six months ago, the rate of heating started to increase. Little habits would become more frequent bickering, and little touches would become longer moments of silence and wondering ' _if he's thinking what i'm thinking'_.

Three months after that, Michael was realizing that the water was boiling and suddenly he had his best friend's hands tugging on his hair, whimpers and mewls in his ear, rather impressive dick in his mouth, and he kinda wasn't mad about it. 

Except he was.

He was very mad, not at the fact that he had said dick in his mouth, but because ten minutes before, he and Jeremy were in a 212° F argument in which he didn't even get to get his point out because he's just _terrible_ with confrontation and Jeremy had just gotten stupidly attractive over the last year or so and _maybe_ he'd always felt this way about him and _maybe_ he was only now realizing it by seeing Jeremy with Christine and _maybe_ he was a little more angry with himself for that on that day than he was with Jere for cancelling their stupid Apocalypse of the Damned plans to go to some stupid halloween party with Christine invited him to and maybehejustdoesn'twanttoadmithowirrationallyattachedheistoJeremyandhowlowkeyjealousheisofChristinesvbzsaDfgbnnjknbfkdxasxvbhn-

  


whatever.

  


The point of the stupid stovepot analogy is, everyone looks at situations like these and thinks they would _never_ allow themselves to get into such a heated situation. But it doesn't just _happen_ , it starts out fine and builds until anyone, even one who's careful, can get burned. 

And of course Michael knew that was really no excuse for _any_ of his behavior, but Nanay had always explained these types of things in a series of parables such as this one to make him understand his world a little better and now he was learning to do it himself. 

And here's the thing about Jeremy.

Jeremy was a double edged sword. Michael never really believed he could love and hate a person so much at the same time. 

Jeremy was stubborn. He'd go to Michael for advice and then run off to do his own thing anyway and end up crying in Michael's basement on a Friday night. He was also incredibly insecure and dependent on other people as a source of happiness, which had consequences on himself and those around him. He could get upset pretty easily but he wouldn't face it until it was all built up inside and he snapped on any innocent victim around, which usually happened to be Michael. He was also a bit passive aggressive at times. Michael knew that Jeremy knew how hard it was for Michael to say no to him, and yeah, of course it was still on Michael to make the right decisions, but Jeremy certainly didn't make it any easier. Jeremy could be so exhausting and frustrating and sometimes Michael wanted to just cut him off, but he couldn't because..

Jeremy had this level of existential thinking that fascinated Michael to no end. Sometimes, he wished he could cut open his head to see where all of that stuff came from. Jere also had this perfectly balanced sense of respectful yet genius humor that managed to put Michael into hysterical fits of laughter for as long as his lungs could handle.

Jeremy was sensitive too, even if he only expressed it in aggression around everyone other than Michael. Michael had been the one to hold him through all life's moments of heartbreak. And Jere did the same for him, like when Nanay first got diagnosed with breast cancer. Jeremy stroked Michael's hair and rubbed his back, telling him that one day things were going to be better, even if it didn't work out the way Michael was desparately praying it would. 

Jeremy had soft brown hair that curled and waved like the lazy waters of the mexican gulf that day they drove an hour and a half down to the beach because Nanay wanted Michael to get some fresh shrimp from the seafood market there.

He had hands and fingers that looked like they belonged on piano keys or violin strings or some artistic shit like that.

He had a light sheen of freckles peppered across his nose and cheeks, accenting that seasonal blush he had in the summertime after they would come inside from thinning out Nanay's banana trees in the backyard. 

He had a voice as thick as honey and lips that were constantly bitten but _holy shit_ did he look pretty biting them and his _thighs_ were so _kissabl-_

"Michael!" Mr. Smith called from the backroom. "I need you to refill the syrup on the cherry side of the slushie machine!"

"Yes sir!" Michael called back, sluggishly pulling himself up from the front counter and checking the clock. 10:32 and he was already exhausted. 

Anyway, all Michael knew was he had it _bad_ and that wasn't going to change, especially if he didn't quit letting his mind run like this when he had calculus to be doing and something to be writing for next Thursday night if he wanted out of this fucking 7-11 job at the next possible opportunity. 

  


But hey, at least he was off on Saturday. 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be afraid to critique my writing lol because when I stare at my own writing too long it seems like there's something wrong with the tone and tense and I know there's probably some characterization inconsistencies and everything but I just need some outside, objective opinions on what I should work on. Your comments are a part of my motivation to write and thank you all so much for reading <3


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